


Social Media

by leoandpavelplaydoctor (blueharlequin)



Series: Teen Wolf Things [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Escort Service, M/M, May Be Expanded Upon, On Hiatus, Prostitution, Rating May Change, unfinished work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueharlequin/pseuds/leoandpavelplaydoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is the owner of a highly successful technology company but he really values his privacy and due to childhood issues is somewhat of a shut in. His friend Scott is the figurehead for the company and speaks for him at social functions and Stiles pretends to be the personal assistant. His silent partner, Lydia, is worried about him and hires an escort to keep him company. Peter Hale moonlights at the agency because he is afraid to commit to serious relationships. Escorting allows him to enjoy sex and company without the strings attached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Media

Deucalion pushes a pile of papers towards him. "What's this?"

"It's a contract for a meeting. We have a client that wants the utmost anonymity and discretion, very rich and very private. They want to try out our services." Deucalion settles back into his chair. "Peter, I know you just moonlight for me on occasion but I think you might be interested in this. It's a long term agreement if they are happy with the first meeting."

Peter's immediately suspicious. Deucalion can sometimes be very sneaky when it comes to things he wants and he can also be very persuasive if need be. "You know I don't want anything I have to commit to. Why would this be any different?"

"Because I think you'll like it. It's been communicated to me that it will be a very 'friends with benefits' arrangement. I think it's something you need. Plus, Derek thinks it a great idea."

"Don't bring him into this." If Deucalion was trying to get on his good side, bringing up Derek was not the best way to go about it. His nephew was brilliant but for some reason had chosen to use escorting to pay his way through college.

* * *

_Later that evening_

A red head with a pinched look greets him at the door. She's dressed to kill in a short red frock with blood red nails and heels that could easily puncture someone's skull. She looks him over and frowns slightly, "Well, not my first choice but you'll do." Peter suppresses the urge to frown since first impressions are the biggest in a client's mind. He moves to introduce himself but she pulls the door open and walks away from him. "Stiles!" she yells into the condo. So she's not the client. She walks away and he closes the door and follows her in. "Stiles!" she yells again, her face turning slightly manic. She whips out a cellphone and starts texting, the latest model from M&S Tech he sees. Looking around he observes his surroundings, the decor is stylish but minimal and everything looks barely used. He hears her put down the phone with a clack and turns his attention back. Somewhere overhead he hears a "thunk" and notices her mouth quirk briefly before she levels her gaze at him. "You are to take him out somewhere," she hands him a list of restaurants. He notes they are classy but not high end, family run establishments with a reputation for good food. "He likes to talk, just look interested. Wine him, dine him, then come back here and fuck his brains out."

"Excuse me madam, since he's the client I'm here to do what he wants." Peter says forcefully polite. He's met a few people like her who think because they are footing the bill they can tell him how he's supposed to do his job.

She looks at him shrewdly, "Good, you’ve got a pair, I least I know you'll have his best interests in mind." She motions towards an office next to a set of elevator doors. "Let me explain what _he's_ paying you for." She sits primly in a leather chair behind the desk and gestures for him to take seat in front of it. "Do you know who I am?" Peter studies her, going through a list of business people who could possibly afford his company's services, he shakes his head. She points to the M on her phone. "I'm the 'M' in M &S Technologies." Peter's suitably impressed, no one's ever seen 'Martin,' the silent partner in one of the fastest and most innovative technology companies in the world. He sees that she is watching him closely and nods for her to continue. "You are about to take out the 'S.'" Peter frowned. If he remembered correctly Scott McCall was engaged to the Argent heiress and looked to be stupid in love her. Was he really a closet homosexual and the news could hurt the company? He heard a snort and looked up to see her smirking at his confusion. "Since you are under contract to keep everything I tell you confidential you get to be the first person outside of the company to learn that the 'S' stands for 'Stilinski' and not 'Scott.' Congratulations, you're about to meet the founder of the company."

 _"Great."_ Peter thought to himself. With his luck it would be some repressed old man looking for a piece on the side. As if reading his mind Lydia continued, "He's not what you are thinking. He doesn't date and he spends all his time working. You are stress relief. And as for your earlier comment, he will want to have sex with you. He's just extremely and painfully socially awkward." She smiled softly for once and Peter could see it was touched with fondness and exasperation. "It's not a pity date," she clarified. "He doesn't make the time to go out, so for his health and my sanity we had to schedule it." Peter looks upward as another loud "thunk" echoes from above. She "hmmpfs" and stabs at the intercom button on the phone in front of her.

"What Lydia?" a petulant voice answers.

"Jackson, is Stiles ready yet?" she hisses through her teeth.

"How would I know? I'm not his keeper." the voice grumbles.

"Jackson!" she yells.

"Dammit Lydia, I think he's still in his workshop." She viciously ends the call and beckons Peter to follow her as she stalks toward the elevators.

Lydia's heel taps impatiently as they go up a floor. Stepping off the elevator they make their way past several doors before she swipes a card through a reader next to one of them. The door snicks open and he stops, totally amazed. It's like walking into Tony Stark's lab, every available surface littered with tech some of which he couldn't even begin to identify. He can see parts from six separate computers scattered across one table. To the side is a battered couch with an amazing flatscreen in front of it. Peter counts every available game system he knows of beneath it. They make their way further into the room and near the back there's a figure hunched over a work table fiddling with a circuit board.

Peter jumps as she screechs, "Stiles!" the figure in the back flails momentarily.

"Jesus Christ Lydia!" He pops up and Peter is surprised. The "man" is young, probably ten or twelve years younger than him. He's got a cute little upturned nose and short messy brown hair that is standing up like he's run his hand through it one too many times. There's a smudge of grease next to a smattering of moles on his cheek and Peter follows them down his neck to where they disappear into ratty graphic tee covered by a plaid over shirt. He's got faded jeans on and tattered sneakers that speak volumes for comfort and age. Peter realises he's being assessed in very much the same way. The bright amber eyes flicking over him quickly. He sees the young man's ears turn red very briefly and is amused when a pink tongue darts out to nervously swipe across his lips. Well at least compared to Lydia's reaction, Stiles is happy with what he sees.

"Aww, man you've gotta lose the suit. That's just too uptight for me." Is the first thing he says.

Lydia counters with, "You are not going out dressed like that. At least put on something clean."

Stiles rolls his eyes walking towards a door on the far wall and Peter hears him mutter, "What's the point if I'm just going to take them off later anyway?" The escort is at least relieved that he's not going to have talk him into it. It feels too much like coercion whenever a client is too embarrassed to really state what they want.

"I want to go to Andretti's," Stiles yells from the other room. Peter remembers it from the list, it's an Italian place that's semi casual. He can hear rustling and clothes being removed and he turns to Lydia who is scowling at the door.

"If there's a next time do as he says with the clothes," she grumbles. Peter nods and his attention is taken away by the person who leans through the open door. _"Holy shit!"_ he thinks. It's Jackson Whittmore, the Olympic swimmer and model. Then it clicks, Lydia Martin. World renowned mathematician and the youngest winner of Fields Medal. He's seen the celebrity articles on them commenting about the odd match. Of course she would be the silent partner for a company like M &S Technologies. "Jackson and I are leaving now, make sure you take good care of him."

The swimmer appraises him for a moment before he rolls his eyes and comments, "I can only hope that Stilinski's getting some might shut him up for a while." Peter's last glimpse of the pair is Lydia slapping Jackson on the arm before they duck out the door. A throat is cleared behind him and he turns back around. The kid's hair is still sticking up but at least it looks like he's tried to run a comb through it. He's got on a charcoal wool v-neck with three quarter sleeves and slacks to match. The sneakers have been replaced with moderately clean black Converse.

"Can you at least ditch the jacket?" he says scuffing his feet against the floor. Peter thinks it's adorable. He drapes his suit jacket over the couch and rolls his shirt sleeves up. Turning to the other man for approval he smirks as Stiles mouth drops open. "That's good, um." Stiles approaches him and waves his hand toward his shirt collar. Peter nods and his about to reach up when long slim fingers block his way. Stiles unbuttons the top two and backs away clearing his throat nervously. "Yeah, better. You don't look so stiff that way... We should get going."


End file.
